


i wanna be the place you call your home

by earlgrey_milktea



Series: as long as you stand by me (ffxv works) [19]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Promptis Week, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 02:59:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15039200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: Noctis doesn’t stir, only shifts closer to cover the empty space that Prompto’s upper half left.He looks like a cat,Prompto’s half-asleep brain supplies.“Haha, Nyactis,” Prompto says into the quiet.Then he lies back down next to his best friend and falls back asleep.falling asleep with noctis next to him is second nature by now. waking up next to noctis, prompto thinks, is a blessing.





	i wanna be the place you call your home

**Author's Note:**

> _**bed sharing** | Ignis or Gladio is Noct’s wingman to get him with Prompto | “Dude, could you be more gay? Don’t answer that.”_
> 
> originally i was just gonna post [this](https://twitter.com/puddingcatbae/status/1010727423548141568) but here i am back on my bullshit with some timeline fic bUT!! HAPPY ENDING TAG!!!!!
> 
> title from ["all that"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W374tWnsk70) by carly rae jepsen

 

 

The first time Prompto falls asleep on Noctis’ sofa, he jolts awake in the middle of the night. He’s not sure why he woke up in such a panic, convinced he’s doing something wrong. But he sits up and nearly shoves Noctis off the couch.

It takes Prompto a second longer to register the fact that yes, it really is Noctis, curled up around him and trapping him against the arm of the sofa. Noctis doesn’t stir, only shifts closer to cover the empty space that Prompto’s upper half left. 

_ He looks like a cat _ , Prompto’s half-asleep brain supplies.

“Haha, Nyactis,” Prompto says into the quiet.

Then he lies back down next to his best friend and falls back asleep.

 

 

 

 

Noctis, Prompto learns early on, can fall asleep just about anywhere and at any time.

It’s kind of endearing, really, once he gets past the initial alarm and  _ holy Astrals above Noctis is sleeping on me what did I do to deserve this hashtag blessed _ . He feels kind of special, knowing that he’s reached the point in his relationship with Noctis where the other boy feels comfortable enough to let his guard down like that. 

So it’s not unusual to find Noctis passed out on his desk after history class, or taking a nap on the rooftop during lunch break, or drifted off in the middle of their movie marathon. Today, though, Noctis is sprawled across Prompto’s lap.

They’re sitting underneath the ancient oak tree in the Citadel gardens. Prompto was elated when Noctis invited him, knowing how difficult it is for civilians to pass through the gates on non-special occasion days. Or rather, how difficult it is for civilians with a lack of money. But Noctis asked him to accompany him today, so Prompto jumped at the opportunity. He’s taken as many photographs as he can before sitting down with Noctis and just talking the afternoon away. Prompto can never tire of talking with Noctis.

Noctis looks tired today. Prompto hasn’t seen him much in the past week. He feels a little guilty for taking up time that Noctis could be using to rest, but he figures that Noctis wants him here. He wouldn’t have asked otherwise, right? And if he’s fallen asleep now, then Prompto will stay until he’s ready to wake again. 

So Prompto leans back against the tree and closes his eyes. With a gentle breeze brushing through his hair and his best friend breathing softly against his legs, Prompto drifts off into a peaceful dream.

 

 

 

 

Prompto is convinced Noctis’ bed is magic.

It looks like an ordinary bed, maybe a little bigger and fancier than his own, but still wood-framed and sitting solid on the floor. But as soon as he sits down on it, it’s like sinking into a cloud. It’s not so hard, then, to just flop over and start snoring.

He suddenly understands why Noctis likes sleeping in so much.

Noctis owns a lot of pillows. Like, a lot. Prompto is half-worried that one morning he’ll wake up and find his best friend has suffocated under the weight of all those pillows, but after being convinced to fall asleep with Noctis more than a couple times, he starts to see the comfort in all those pillows. It’s soft. It’s like melting into a sea of fluffiness. He wouldn’t mind staying in Noctis’ bed forever.

The best part is, Noctis is right there next to him. Noctis sleeps like a cat—curled to his side and migrating towards the nearest source of warmth throughout the night. Prompto has fallen off the couch more time than not because of this, but on Noctis’ bed, there’s less risk of that. He’ll wake up with Noctis’ weight trapping him against the mattress, but it’s one of the best predicaments he’s found himself in. 

Prompto’s not used to sleeping in, but with Noctis, he doesn’t really mind.

 

 

 

 

Returning from his quick shower, Prompto finds Noctis already under the covers and facing the wall. Prompto quietly puts his things away. There’s a text from Ignis thanking him for giving him a heads up where Noctis is hiding out today. It’s too late to send a reply, so Prompto sets his phone on his desk, takes off his glasses, and crawls into his bed next to Noctis.

Noctis stirs at the movement.

“Sorry,” Prompto whispers. “Go back to sleep.”

His reply is an incoherent mumble as Noctis shuffles back around until his back is against the wall and his sleepy face is tilted towards Prompto. His hands make grabby motions at him. Huffing out a laugh, Prompto slides closer and surrenders himself into Noctis’ infamous cuddle-hold for the rest of the night.

He pats Noctis’ head. “‘Night, Noct,” he says, “feel better soon.”

There’s a quick press of lips against his collarbone. Soon, their breathing synchronizes in a sleepy in-and-out, slowly evening out as they dream.

 

 

 

 

Sleeping in a tent isn’t terrible, but it’s definitely not Prompto’s favourite thing. He’s glad he’s an early riser, using his morning stretching routine as an excuse to leave the small enclosed space as soon as he can.

But sometimes, he finds himself waiting for Noctis to wake, too. 

He’s usually sandwiches between Ignis and Noctis. Which is nice because Ignis sleeps with minimal movement and Noctis acts like a buffer against Gladio’s sleep-rumbling noises. But Noctis’ habit of latching onto him while they sleep doesn’t go away, so Prompto quickly teaches himself how to slip out of the hold before his bladder explodes.

Today, he pinches Noctis’ nose until the other boy snorts, detaching his hand from where it was clutching at Prompto’s hip to swat at him. Noctis misses. Prompto taps his cheek.

“Come on, dude,” he says, “I gotta pee.”

“No.”

“Pretty sure not even a royal decree can stop this one, my guy.”

Noctis’ eyes finally blink open. He’s scowling, but Prompto is used to this grumpy, half-awake expression by now. He has more than a few pictures of it saved somewhere for potential blackmail purposes that just never came up.

“Gonna wake up?” Prompto says hopefully.

A pause as Noctis’ brain slowly processes the question. Then Noctis yawns in his face, but thankfully rolls off him. Prompto pokes him between the shoulder blades.

“Get up soon, ‘kay? Iggy promised omelettes today and you love those.”

“Tell ‘im no peppers.”

“You tell him.”

Noctis groans. “What kind of a best friend are you?”

Prompto grins. He leans his weight on top of Noctis, who wiggles halfheartedly. “The kind you love,” he sings, and when Noctis sighs, half exasperated and half fond, Prompto laughs.

 

 

 

 

“I call dibs on Prompto,” Noctis calls as soon as Ignis unlocks the motel room.

“Brat,” says Gladio, trying to put him in a headlock.

Ignis doesn’t roll his eyes, but his pursed lips say as much. “I believe the couch also serves as a pull-out bed,” he says.

“Great,” Gladio says, “because I need all the extra space I can get.”

“Your fault for being behemoth-sized,” Noctis mutters. He ducks into the bathroom to escape Gladio’s clutches.

The motel bed isn’t as nice as Noctis’ bed. Nothing will ever be as nice as Noctis’ bed, Prompto thinks. But it’s been a while since they’ve slept in real beds, so he lets out a long sigh as he flops onto his back. He turns his head to find Noctis punching the pillows into shape. When he’s satisfied, he lies down and rolls towards Prompto.

“You okay?” Prompto murmurs. The fan is just loud enough to drown out their whispers, but Ignis and Gladio are both light sleepers. Noctis has been quiet lately, and Prompto knows that his best friend isn’t great at talking about his feelings. He’ll talk when he’s ready. It’s just that lately, Prompto can’t help but feel like they’re running out of time.

Noctis’ eyes give off a strange glint in the dimness. Prompto watches Noctis watch him for a moment. Then, Noctis closes his eyes.

“I’m trying,” he says.

Prompto reaches over and lays a hand on his cheek. “We’re right here with you,” he says quietly. “I’m here.”

Noctis’ hand comes up to hold his. “Yeah,” Noctis mumbles. “I know.”

They end up tangled together, hand over heart and fingers under shirts, tracing bare skin until shaky breaths even out and lumps in throats fade just a bit. Prompto tucks his chin over Noctis’ head and hopes his friend can find safety, even if just in his dreams.

 

 

 

 

“Hey, buddy,” Prompto says. “What are you dreaming about?”

He doesn’t receive a reply. He hasn’t, for the past however many days. He’s too tired to keep count. He’s too sad to keep count.

Gladio’s passed out in Ignis’ room. Ignis is... trying his best to sleep, the last that Prompto checked on him. They’re all doing their best to sleep, but it’s hard. How can they sleep when the feeling of death and tragedy clings to their skin no matter how many times they try to scrub it off in the shower? Prompto’s pretty sure his eyebags are heavier than his entire body weight now.

Noctis looks so pale, lying still on the bed like that. He’s alive, though. He’s alive, and that’s more than Prompto can ask for. Prompto’s heart breaks for when Noctis eventually has to wake up in a world coloured grey by despair and long, drawn-out nights. A waking nightmare.

Kicking off his boots, Prompto climbs onto the bed next to his best friend. He brushes a hand across Noctis’ forehead. It’s wrinkled, distressed. Prompto lays down, head by Noctis’ shoulder, an ankle hooked over Noctis’ leg. Gently, he reaches out and slips his hand around Noctis’ limp fingers. Closing his eyes, he tries his best to hold on ‘til morning.

 

 

 

 

The dormitories in Zegnautus Keep are cold. Prompto hasn’t stopped shaking since his friends—his real friends—stole him out of his confines and apologized over and over and told him he was going to be okay. It’s a lie, though. None of them are okay, and Prompto isn’t sure they ever will be, again.

Noctis hasn’t left his side. He’s sitting pressed against him now, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, one hand gripping Prompto’s almost tight enough to bruise. But he’s gentle with Prompto. The others are, too. It makes Prompto’s heart hurt, but he doesn’t know what else he wants them to do. They’ve already done more than enough, coming back for him.

“We should attempt to find some rest,” Ignis says. Gladio grunts from the bunk closes to the door.

“Do you want to lie down?” Noctis asks him.

Prompto starts to nod, but flashes of being tied down, of trying desperately to break free, of staring at the blinding lights in the ceiling makes him freeze. He shakes his head.

“Okay,” Noctis says. He nudges him lightly. Prompto lets him arrange their limbs until he’s sitting in between Noctis’ knees, head tucked in between Noctis’ head and neck. A hand runs up and down his back slowly. Prompto closes his eyes and focuses on the soothing sensation. His fingers dig into Noctis’ hips, but Noctis doesn’t complain. He just holds him.

Prompto isn’t sure any of them got much sleep that night, but for the first time since he arrived in that hell, he doesn’t dream.

 

 

 

 

The storage room above Cindy’s garage that Prompto has been living out of for the last few years is barely large enough to hold a bed. It’s definitely not made for two people. The wood creaks under their weight, but neither of them say anything. Their mouths are a bit too preoccupied, anyway.

“What’s this?” Noctis asks, breaking apart to trace his finger over a scar by Prompto’s ribs.

“Run in with a Ronin,” Prompto says.

“And this,” a scar down his stomach, one by his shoulder, a slash down the side of his neck. Noctis leans back and traces him over with his eyes. “I’ve missed a lot, haven’t I,” he whispers.

Prompto reaches up and cups his hans around Noctis’ face. “I missed you,” he says.

Midnight eyes slip closed. Noctis leans down and buries his face against Prompto’s bare chest. He can feel tears and the slight shudders travelling down Noctis’ spine. Prompto smooths his hands along Noctis’ back, not pausing even when he feels the familiar ridges of Noctis’ own scars.

“Hey,” Prompto says. “We’re gonna be alright.”

Noctis doesn’t answer, but his arms tighten around Prompto.

“We’re here now,” Prompto continues, “and tomorrow, me and Iggy and Gladio and you, we’re going to go kick some daemon ass. We’re going to show the Astrals a piece of our mind, yeah? We’re going to do it. Together.”

They sleep pressed against each other, as close as they can get, skin on skin and lips on lips, tangled up in a way they haven’t in a long, long while. It kind of aches, in between Prompto’s ribcage. But it’s warm, and there’s a comfort that traces back through the unrelenting dark and far beyond the tears and loss, past the long drives and fading horizons, back to when they were still young enough to waste their days sleeping away in Noctis’ bed.

For the first night since the darkness fell and stayed, Prompto dreams again.

 

 

 

 

The apartment they share is modest, slightly bigger despite Noctis’ protests. The people might not have witnessed the final battle, but they all heard the stories and saw the sun rise again like a dream. He was the Chosen King, and even if the powers that chose him are no more, he was all they had to look up to right now. So Noctis accepted the temporary apartment with the grace of a king, and immediately asked Prompto to move in with him.

At least for now. Insomnia will be rebuilt eventually. And then, Noctis will probably ask Prompto again. As if Prompto would ever say no to him.

But for now, in this small apartment in the corner of Lestallum, as people are learning how to wake with the sun again, Prompto opens his eyes and is greeted with a sleepy smile that lights thousand campfires in his chest. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Noctis says.

Prompto grins at him. “Did I wake up in an alternate universe?” he teases. “Where you wake up earlier than me?”

“Hey, at least Specs would be proud of me.”

“Not when you insist on staying in bed for at least another two hours.”

Noctis rolls over until he has his arms on either side of Prompto. He’s wearing that stupid smirk of his when he says, “Who can blame me when I have such good company?”

This bed isn’t as wonderful as Noctis’ bed from another apartment, a lifetime ago. But, Prompto thinks as Noctis closes the distance between them, it definitely comes close.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> basically i just recycled all ur fave headcanons and my fave phrases and my fave trope and just tap-tap-tapped away at my keyboard, and it still took me way too long to post, i'm gomen
> 
> @puddingcatbae on tumblr/twitter


End file.
